


Underwater Piano

by DeiUta



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Dan and Phil could be read as friends or partners, Friendship, Hurt, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, your choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 15:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeiUta/pseuds/DeiUta
Summary: He’s gone.“Who?” Dan hadn’t realized he’d managed to call Tyler. Or make his thoughts heard in the physical plane.“Phil.” Ah. That surge of emotion that gurgles his voice and raises and lowers it so unattractively. Why does his throat hurt?“What do you mean Phil’s gone? Is he dead?! When?? What happened, Dan? Are you two okay?”





	Underwater Piano

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228382) by [coloursflyaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway). 



Phil is pacing, but in a very narrow area: between the coffee table and the front of the couch, which is also where Dan had just risen to get a cup of tea [the closest thing to hydration he gets]. “It’s like I have my head underwater and someone is playing piano in the next room. Only that ‘someone’ is you, and I really wish you’d unlock the door so I could properly hear what you’re playing.” He pauses, the manic flare in his eyes giving way to his insecurities. “Or something like that.”

Dan blinks, surprised at _Phil_ using such a convoluted metaphor without tripping over his own words. Then again, he  was an English major.

And then Dan finally takes in his words. He looks down and away. “Phil, I—.” He stops.

Phil runs a hand through his fringe, making bits of it stick up. Dan really should be focusing more on how frustrated his friend looks, like he’s about to shake out of himself to spirit-push Dan into a wall, but Dan’s always been great at focusing on the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“‘Phil, I’ _what_ , Dan? I’m trying, I really am. I remind you to eat when you go on Wikipedia adventures, I let you have the best mug when we drink hot chocolate together, I rearrange my schedule around you— _I let you walk all over me and my feelings_ , every day. And I was okay with that, really, I was, but now, I—.” There’s the stutter. “Now I think I want…better. I think I… _deserve_ better, you know? Because this?” He points back and forth between them with 2 and a half shaky fingers. “This isn’t…this isn’t our best. This is me letting you hurt me, over and over again, without telling you you’ve hurt me, so you  keep doing it. But when I hurt _you_ , you let me know, and I change! Or at least I do better, next time. For _you_.” Phil’s hands are shaking, but it’s not a wild, angry shake anymore. And if his voice twisted in an agonizing crack while saying ‘you’, well. Dan certainly doesn’t notice.

“This is me,” desperately “trying to get you to understand for the first time ever, only for you to say ‘Phil, I’ and then _stop_ , like I’m supposed to _understand_ **anything** from two words I’m beginning to think are actually opposites.” He sags under some invisible weight—a twig of an Atlas, trying to rest his hands by shouldering the weight of the world on his head and shoulders.

“I, um.” He looks up to the ceiling, his lips tightening into each other like they plan to merge. “I think I need to move out.”

Dan’s eyes widen and flick up to stare at Phil.

There’s a pause.

After what feels like a millennia and a millisecond at the same time, in which Dan gets a flash of them moving in together the first, second, third and fourth times, and some [which grew to be practically all] moments he felt more at home with Phil than he’d ever felt with his family, Phil breaks eye-contact with the heaviest of sighs. He smiles, but it’s crumpled worse than Dan’s law-homework, and the subsequent sniffle makes it seem almost as wet [the toilet is where bad homework belongs. Except when it clogs the toilet (because _all_ homework is bad)].

And then he leaves.

 

It’s not actually that fast—he goes to his room to pack a backpack, and rummages through the bathroom for a few things, and they both know he’ll end up forgetting some important thing anyways.

And as though Phil were the Flash, he’s done, and he’s walking to the front door, slowly, as though he still has hope for change.

But Dan can’t speak. He’s not even sure he wants to. Because sure, he wants Phil to stay—more than anything. But if he’s hurting him that badly just by existing, is there even a chance Phil will ever be happy by his side?

So when Phil started packing, Dan started thinking. Of all the times he thought they were having fun. And all the memories start to twist and distort themselves, and suddenly only Dan was having fun, and doesn’t this mean all the fun Dan has is at Phil’s expense? What kind of monster would force his so-called friend to stay if it meant he’d be in pain the entire time they were together? But such a monster exists inside Dan, the same monster that wants to scream ‘Wait’ at Phil’s rapidly retreating back, that wants a never-ending sleepover with his best friend, that wants and wants and wants. But when have they ever gave? Did they ever think to ask Phil what _he_ wanted, or did they always just assume Phil would want the same thing?

_Click._

 

 

 

He’s gone.

“Who?” Dan hadn’t realized he’d managed to call Tyler. Or make his thoughts heard in the physical plane.

 _“Phil_.” Ah. That surge of emotion that gurgles his voice and raises and lowers it so unattractively. Why does his throat hurt?

“ _What do you mean Phil’s gone? Is he dead?! When?? What_ happened _, Dan? Are you two okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Because I will!”_  The sense of urgency in his friend’s voice makes Dan a bit jealous. How is it that Tyler can say the important things so well and so quickly?

It turns out jealousy and spite are decent motivators. Apparently more so than fear and desire.

“He walked out of the apartment, just now. He said he’s moving.”

“ _Oh_.” Another thing Tyler Oakley was amazing at: properly emoting and reacting to serious situations. “Oh my _god_ , Dan. _What happened?_ ”

Except the spite kind of wore out, so he’s just sitting there, trying to figure out why he feels like he can’t breathe.

Oh. It’s because he’s not.

“Hey, hey, hey. We don’t have to talk about it right now. Dan, listen to me. Breathe in and out, very slowly. Come on, let’s do it together. In—2, 3, 4. Out—2, 3, 4. In—”

And Dan can’t really focus on his thoughts anymore, and knows he can’t really trust himself at the moment, so he trusts Tyler and breathes. It takes a while, but eventually his head isn’t as stuffy and dizzy. So he looks down at his hands.

Only to see that he’s curled up in a ball, and his pants’ knees are wet. _Oh_. He must be crying.

He touches his cheek. _Definitely_ crying. He feels a sob tear through his chest at the realization, and knows he’s gone for now.

“Dan?” Tyler’s voice is a bit softer now, but determined. “You need a friend over there, right now. It’s going to take me a while to drive there from the hotel, but I won’t hang up, okay? I’ll be quiet for a while, though.” He pauses. “Well, as quiet as Tyler Oakley can be,” he half-mutters.

Dan stutters a laugh, surprising himself. So he goes for gold.

He clears his throat.

“See you soon,” his creaky voice manages. Then, “Thanks, Tyler.”

There’s a very short pause. “You’re welcome, Daniel,” he says, gentle and soothing like the inside of a proper truffle.  

 

And then he waits.

**Author's Note:**

> So I read coloursflyaway's "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" and /died/ at how amazing it was--you should totally read it. 
> 
> The line “like I have my head under water and someone is playing piano in the next room” really got to me, and all of a sudden, I was writing this fic. Thank you so much for coming up with such a perfect line, Colours.


End file.
